


Contrition

by Sugarmouse



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarmouse/pseuds/Sugarmouse
Summary: For@ms_cannibalWritten for the Fannibal Fest 2018 KickstarterWill feels regret for surviving the fall.





	Contrition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsCannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsCannibal/gifts).



Hannibal’s hands can cause such pain. Will has witnessed it, has felt it for himself. He’s skilled when it comes to the infliction of his desires. Yet now Will feels something else, something better. He closes his eyes as Hannibal kneads the heel of his hand into the sore point on his back. He sighs softly, blissfully, contentedly. The aching pain is gone, for a while, his body relaxing under Hannibal’s deft fingers.  

Perhaps he shouldn’t be enjoying this sensation, shouldn’t be enjoying any sensation at all. It took so much to get them here, to get them safe with some distance and breathing room. It took too much to keep them together, to allow Will to lie here, relaxed and enjoying Hannibal’s hands on him. 

Hannibal pauses and Will opens his eyes, turning his face to the side to peer from the corner of his half closed eyes at Hannibal’s face. Hannibal chuckles softly, a sound that Will doesn’t hear often but is happy that he’s the one who gets to hear it. “You don’t want me to stop,” says Hannibal, a statement rather than a question and Will closes his eyes as Hannibal continues his movements.

It’s nice to not have to think, to not have to worry about hiding something from Hannibal. While he knows Hannibal can read him too easily, he doesn’t want him to think he regrets coming with him, regrets joining him, regrets giving in. It’s the only thing he feels completely and entirely certain of.

“Roll over,” says Hannibal softly and Will doesn’t open his eyes as he obeys. He feels Hannibal’s weight shift, feels him lift Will’s arm and gently manipulate the muscles in it. He allows his body to slacken further, to give in to Hannibal’s handling of his body.

He feels the pull, inside his chest. It’s been pulling him since he first met Hannibal, all those years ago. He’s been feeling it more and more intensely these last weeks, just the two of them now, no space to hide. He had once felt trepidation, questioned himself, brushed it off, thought it unrequited from Hannibal’s perspective but he finds he cannot deny it any further.

He can hear Hannibal breathing and wonders how he might react if Will were to open his eyes, if he were to sit up and close the tiny gap between them. He doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to because Hannibal will guide and steer things, will bring things to where they need to be. He keeps his eyes closed even as his lips surprise him, pressing warm and dry against his own closed mouth. It’s brief, but it’s enough.

Hannibal is breathing heavier than he’d probably like to, revealing himself. Will opens his eyes and they look at one another and Will feels a stab of guilt at how much he enjoys the vulnerable position that Hannibal has placed himself in. Will could let it linger, but he doesn’t. He smiles. Hannibal smiles back. He laughs. They both do.

The tension of the moment is broken and Will sits up, breaking their eye contact and stretching his shoulders. He wants this, but he can’t shake it, pulling at this feeling, threatening to drag it down to the level of misery.

“It’s okay,” says Hannibal, and momentarily Will isn’t sure if he is reading his mind, telling him that his guilt, his worry about what has had to happen to bring this all together, that  _ it’s okay _ . It’s not, but he can’t change that now. Will shakes his head, forcing his lips to move, for feelings to spill out, to let Hannibal know that he  _ doesn’t need to give him an out _ .

“I want you too,” Will says, voice scratching and forced and rushed and Hannibal’s lips curl up and the warmth in Will’s chest is enough to drown out any negative thoughts, any of the remorse that weighs him down. He feels light, buoyed by Hannibal’s happiness. He leans forward and kisses Hannibal, a proper kiss, the first of what he hopes is many.


End file.
